


Not With Haste

by harmharm130



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Light BDSM, M/M, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-20
Updated: 2013-03-20
Packaged: 2017-12-05 21:48:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/728261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harmharm130/pseuds/harmharm130
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's life with Sam in the Batcave is slowly improving, but it's got a certain angel-shaped hole that he refuses to acknowledge. When that hole fills itself and then some, Dean has to deal with the fact that maybe he deserves a little loving after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not With Haste

**Author's Note:**

> Hallo! Author here. First of all, this is the first fic I've ever written, so please be gentle! It's unbeta'd, so all mistakes are my own. It's got some pretty heavy D/s themes, but no real BDSM. Title and opening lyrics are from Mumford and Sons' "Not With Haste."

 

_Your eyes they tie me down so hard_

_I'll never learn to put up a guard_

_So keep my love, my candle bright_

_Learn me hard, oh learn me right_

_This ain't no sham_

_I am what I am_

_Though I may speak some tongue of old_

_Or even spit out some holy word_

_I have no strength from which to speak_

_When you sit me down, and see I'm weak_

_We will run and scream_

_You will dance with me_

_They'll fulfill our dreams and we'll be free_

     It had been a while since Dean had gotten laid. Okay, more than a little while. Like, since before Purgatory. When he had been in that hell hole all alone he had been too exhausted all the time to even take care of himself; chasing and being chased by monsters all day will do that to you. Once Benny and eventually Cas had joined him it had just been too damn awkward, with one of ‘em always keeping an eye on him. And once he’d been back...well, he just hadn’t been feeling it. Sure, he would occasionally crack open the computer for some Busty Asian Beauty time, but that was more going through the motions than anything. He would eye a pretty girl at a bar or flirt with their waitress if she happened to be hot, but the thought of taking a girl back to some hotel (taking her back to the Men of Letters’ bunker was out of the question) just didn’t hold the same appeal as it once had. It didn’t really bother him. Nothing was wrong with him. Sam would occasionally knit his brow in that stupid “I acknowledge your pain” way he did when Dean failed to disappear at the end of the night and return with his characteristic swagger. And really, who would have thought he would ever miss the “you get laid too much” bitchface? In fact, Dean felt better than he had in a long time. He and Sam felt like they once had, going on hunts and saving people again.They had a proper home for once, not just an endless string of hotel rooms and bad cups of coffee. They ate real home cooked meals on a regular basis, even if it was Dean doing the cooking. Life was good.

     Except...when it wasn’t. Except having his own quiet room with a big, empty bed wasn’t the blessing he would swear up and down it was. His nightmares had come back full force, full of Hell and Leviathans and whatever might be happening to Cas. Cas... Dean stopped that thought process firmly before it could overtake him. His thoughts had been drifting more and more towards his (no, the) angel of late. He shifted onto his side where he was lying in the bed and closed his eyes against the stubborn swarm of of images and emotions brought up by the thoughts of his friend.

     Dean wasn’t stupid. Maybe he’d never experienced real romantic love before, but that didn’t mean he didn’t recognize it when it hit him over the head with a sledgehammer.The sick fluttering of his stomach whenever his angel was around, the crippling anxiety whenever he didn’t know whether the angel was alright; it reminded him when Sam went through his whole “accidently ending the world” thing. But most of all, he knew he was in love when he was lying alone at night on his soft, comfortable mattress in his room free from the sounds of over-enthusiastic adulterers and he couldn’t sleep. The warmth of the plush comforter still left him cold. When he did sleep, he woke up in the middle of the night scrunched against the wall and his hand gripping the pillow as though trying to hold something there.

     Dean also wasn’t stupid enough to believe that he deserved Cas. He didn’t deserve anyone, really, but especially not Cas. Not after everything he’d done, for Dean and for the world. And yet, every night he got so close to asking. His loneliness and want would drive him right to the edge of desperation and he would almost whisper a prayer. Dean sighed. He gave up and let the images swarm through his head. Every time he had looked into the man’s eyes, the hug they had shared, the sweet, confused smile the angel had produced after the debacle at the brothel.

     “Dean.”

     He startled, feeling guilty despite the relative innocence of his thoughts. “Cas! Where the hell have you been, man?” He reached out and turned on the lamp at his bedside, bathing the room in a warm glow and illuminating Cas’ face. He looked tired and sad, reminding Dean forcibly of when they had first reunited in Purgatory: like he had been fighting so hard for so long that he barely had the energy to stand anymore. He slumped onto the edge of Dean’s bed and rubbed his face with one hand.

     “I have been busy trying to make good in Heaven. It is...draining.” Dean could understand why this would make him look like someone shot his dog.

     “Okay, so what are you doing here?” He kicked himself internally. It’s not like the guy had any other home than Heaven, and if that’s what he was trying get away from, where else could he go? Castiel’s frown deepened.

     “I was only seeking shelter. I can go elsewhere, if I’m--”

     “No!” Dean blurts out too forcefully. “I mean, no. It’s okay. Just--Just do whatever you need, okay?” Castiel nodded and folded his hands neatly in his lap, turning his face to the wall and saying nothing. After a minute or two of Dean waiting for him for do something else, he says “If you need...anything...just ask.” Cas nodded once, briefly and gravely meeting Dean’s eyes, then returned to his inspection of the wall opposite. Dean shrugged helplessly, turned out the light, and laid back down. After a while he could feel Cas’ warmth seeping into his legs, and he drifted off quickly.

     To Dean’s immense surprise, Castiel was still there when he woke in the morning. He was somewhat embarrassed to find that he had curled up in the night, his feet and legs tucked along Cas’ seated form as snugly as they would go. He withdrew them with a self-conscious cough, managing to rumble a “good morning.” Castiel, despite having apparently not moved all night, seemed somewhat improved. He responded to Dean’s waking with a soft smile and a returned greeting. His eyes were still heavy with what might have been grief, but the warmth that graced them when they met Dean’s was genuine. As always, Dean found himself losing his train of thought and staring right back into the angel’s eyes, seemingly unable to pull them away. “Well,” he said, dragging his eyes away finally and beginning his search for some clean clothes, “you might want to go say ‘hi’ to Sam while I get dressed.” Castiel nodded again, rose, and exited to go find the younger Winchester. Dean released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and got dressed. He squared his shoulders and followed Cas through to see Sam’s bemused expression, but took a detour straight to the kitchen. Cas still didn’t eat, but Dean made breakfast for three anyway.

     Castiel became somewhat of a feature about the place after that. He refused to talk about what was happening in Heaven, but Sam and Dean understood privacy and repression better than most so they didn’t pry. Cas never went with them on hunts, but pretty much whenever they were at the Batcave he was there. Usually they would come home from hunts to him quietly reading one of the books that lined the walls, sometimes in the exact same chair and position as when they had left several days before. On one memorable occasion they had gotten in to find him in the middle of the foyer with a length of rope, attempting to lasso one of the suits of armor. After they had regained the ability to breathe through their laughter, Cas had red-facedly admitted to digging into their DVD collection while they were gone.

     Most of the time, he would hang out until Sam and Dean went to bed, wish them a solemn good night, and disappear with a soft rustle of feathers. Other times (and increasingly, if he was honest with himself) after wishing Sam a good night he would follow Dean to his room and sit at the edge of the bed, folding his hands just like that first night. Dean always asked him to close his eyes when he changed (because fuck if he was going to go change in the bathroom when he wasn’t showering. It’s his room, damn it!) but found he didn’t much mind the angel’s presence. Sam’s eyebrows had raised to his hairline the first time he had witnessed them go off to bed together and Dean had gone red all the way to his ears, but he also didn’t miss the small twitch of a smile on his brother’s lips when they both emerged the next morning.

     Things went downhill quickly after that. After the lasso incident Dean took it as his personal mission in life to educate Castiel in all things Awesome. Together they slowly worked through Dean’s entire collection of movies, TV shows, and albums, checking them out from the library when his stock ran out. Cas’ favorite, much to Dean’s chagrin, was Star Trek. “I have spent millennia watching humanity, Dean." He had explained when Dean asked about it. "I am a fan of the species in general, but things get...repetitive. I have never been to the future, as there was not supposed to be one. It is new.” They even started exchanging books, Dean giving Cas Vonnegut and in turn receiving such out-of-character texts as Dante and Darwin. There were not too many books in Dean’s repertoire, so when the list was all crossed out, he just handed Cas his library card on the way out the door and said “have fun.” When he came home three days later to a pile of cookbooks and a perfectly baked apple pie, he knew he was in way over his head.

     It had been easy to keep his feelings in check when Cas was still this distant, ethereal figure, more a dream than a reality. It had been easy to tell himself it was just him reacting to the man’s otherworldliness. The more he saw of Cas’ humanity, the more he knew he was dead wrong. He could now recognize Cas' (Jimmy’s?) scent, judge different emotions from the minute changes in his smile, knew to the smallest detail the way fingers traced lovingly over the spines of books or slid into his own mouth, tasting the sticky, cinnamony goodness-- Ahem. That was where the problem started: the more Dean got to know Cas, the more he loved him. The more he wanted him, burned for him. He sometimes thought Cas might want him back, too. He would catch flashes of blue over the cover of books, but when he looked Castiel’s gaze was fixed firmly on the pages. Other times, he would wake up in the middle of the night to find Cas just staring at him with this hungry look in his eyes, but it was always gone before Dean could really interpret it. He almost started to hope...NO! Hope had never done much for Dean Winchester.

     Time passed, and things got worse. Or better, or whatever. Daily life was awesome, hunting and hanging out with his brother and Cas put him in an almost Twilight-Zone level of happiness, but nights were torture. Falling asleep to Cas’ penetrating stare on his face and Cas’ warmth seeping into his skin left him dreaming of soft touches, whispered commands, rough bites followed by sweet kisses. His newfound knowledge of his friend meant that he could so easily imagine the smell of Cas’ hair, the exact crooked smile he would give when he kissed Dean’s skin, the low tones of his moans. And, yeah. Torture. He found to his horror that he would with increasing frequency wake up rock hard with Castiel not a foot away from him. Thank god the angel usually turned to stare at the wall in the night! Dean would always blush furiously, gruffly order Cas out of the room while shielding his crotch from view, and quickly take care of himself in the shower with a carefully blank mind.

     Today was different, somehow. Cas seemed to be watching him more than normal, and there was a weird sort of tension between them that wasn’t usually there. Dean chalked it up to his own nervousness; his dream dream last night had been especially...vivid. Still, the day progressed fairly normally and Dean slowly relaxed. They looked for jobs, filed some false credit card claims, and watched a few episodes of Star Trek: DS9 while they ate dinner. By the time they parted ways for bed, Sam to his room and the other two to Dean’s, Dean had practically forgotten the oddness of that morning.

     It didn’t take him very long to remember. When he told Cas to to close his eyes so he could change into his pajamas, he was met with a calm but firm “No.” Dean’s eyes went wide and he turned to face Cas, seated on the bed with as passive a face as ever. Castiel was, of course, staring right at him. After a moment of stunned silence Dean realized he was just standing there, holding his pajama bottoms and staring stupidly back.

     “Uh” he managed, “Can I ask why?” Cas rose from his position on the bed and seemed to be suddenly in Dean’s space, caging him with his back against the dresser and his pajamas held up between them like a shield. He opened his mouth, no doubt to say something incredibly witty and appropriate like ‘buh,’ but Cas’ hand clamped tight over his mouth stopped him.

     “You have been having an increasing number of sexual dreams lately. I did not mind. In fact I was glad, a normal sexual appetite is a sign of your recovering from the stress of Purgatory. I had assumed your dreams were of your former partners or of the ‘busty asian beauties’ you are so fond of. But last night...you spoke in your sleep.” Dean felt his heart plummet. Shit! He would lose everything, would lose Cas because he couldn’t control his own stupid libido! His fears were confirmed by the next few words: “You spoke my name.” Dean closed his eyes. Here it comes. “I thought it was a mistake at first, or that you were having a nightmare, but you kept repeating it. ‘Cas, please, Cas.’” His voice changed on the last words, grew a little rougher. He said nothing. Dean couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes, waiting for the angel to pull away or throw the first punch. Instead he felt a light stroking of fingers along his cheek. Then another.

    His eyes cracked open to look into Cas’, confused and a little hopeful. “Why didn’t you tell me, Dean? You are no fool. You know how I feel about you. You want me--am I wrong?” He removed both hands from Dean’s face, but maintained the distance of only inches from him. Dean took in a shaky breath before answering, licking the taste of salty warm skin from his lips. “No.” He looked down, no longer able to look Castiel in the eyes. “You’re not wrong.”

     “Why did you hide it from me then? Why did you never--his eyes widened in recognition then immediately narrowed in anger. “Dean. After all this time, you might have learned something. But you are still as idiotic and self-sacrificing as when I first met you. This time his hands were at the lapels of Dean’s overshirt, pushing him back harshly and causing the dresser’s drawer handles to dig painfully into his back. “You think you don’t deserve me.”

     Dean finally found his voice. “ I don’t deserve you. There are a lot of good people out there Cas, and I’m--”

     “Mine!” Castiel growled, shaking him again. “I don’t want any of those ‘good people’ Dean, I want you. My human. Maybe you don’t think you deserve me, or love, or happiness, but you have me anyway. Got it?” Dean’s head was spinning. He breathed for a second, then gave a small smile. He dropped the pajama pants on the floor and rested his hand on one of Cas’ where it was still gripping at his shoulder.

     “Yeah.”

     “Good.” The world spun, and by the time Dean realized what had happened he was flat on his back on the bed.

     “Cas--” was as far as he got before he was being kissed. It was unskilled, a violent pushing and mouthing, but it made Dean reach up to pull Cas closer anyway. They made out like this for a while, passion and anger slowly boiling down to exploratory and almost sweet. Dean began to tug insistently at the trench coat and Cas pulled off. Dean gave his sexiest, most winning smile and drawled, “How about we get rid of some of these clothes?” Cas stared down at him for a moment, his expression contemplative and still mildly angry. Dean’s grin faltered.

     “Cas?” At this, Cas finally moved. His had moved slowly from its supporting position by Dean’s head and up his cheek, finally coming to rest again over his human’s mouth. Dean didn’t resist.

     “Here’s how this will go, Dean. I am going to take care of you. I am going to worship your body, the body I remade, however I wish. I am going to show you just how much you deserve. And you are going to let me, without comment, or I walk away. Do you understand?” He leaned in until his lips were right at Dean’s ear and whispered, “Let me show you what I think of what you care so little for.” Dean thought briefly about refusing. He was still John’s son, after all, and Dean Winchester didn’t lay there and just take it from anyone. But this was Cas. The man he loved, the man we wanted more than air itself. The man who loved him back even though he was no better than the black smoke they hunted after. Yeah, he could do this much.

     He took a deep breath then relaxed back into the pillows. He removed his hands from where they were still resting on Cas’ shoulders and, both trying to show his agreement and unsure of what else to do with them, laid them in a loose circle that had his wrists crossing just above his head. Castiel smiled (the same smile he gave when I said I liked his pie Dean thought deliriously), removing his hand from Dean’s mouth and leaning down to kiss him long and deep. His left hand trailed carefully up one of Dean’s arms, catching both where they lay and squeezing the wrists tightly, accepting his submission. Then, he began the torture.

     He reached his other hand up and took one of Dean’s wrists in each of his hands, removing himself from the kiss pulling them both into a seated position at the same time. He stripped Dean of his shirts and pushed him back down into position before shimmying down the length of his body to remove the rest of his clothes. Dean gave a breathy grunt when Cas’ hips slid over his still-clothed erection. After removing the last of Dean’s clothing, Castiel removed the trench coat and suit jacket from his own body, grinning wickedly down at Dean as he rolled up his sleeves.

     “You know” Cas drawled, crawling back up Dean’s body to straddle his thighs and picking up his human’s plain black boxers from where they had fallen, “these don’t really suit you much. We’ll have to think about getting you something a bit more...colorful.” Dean’s eyes widened, HOWTHEHELLDOESHEKNOWABOUTTHAT shooting through his head before Castiel chuckles darkly and leans down to nip at his jaw. “Now, now, Dean, did you really think you could hide it from me? The way your pupils dilate and eyes keep darting to the panty section whenever we’re at the store?” He nibbles at Dean’s earlobe, then traces his tongue along the delicate outer rim.. “The way you slide even the plainest of boxers up your hips slowly, sensuously, and trail your fingers up your sides?” He places hot, open-mouthed kisses to the length of Dean’s neck. “I watched you, sometimes, when you forgot to ask me to close my eyes.”

     He pauses in his ministrations, lips still poised on Dean’s neck but unmoving, as though to give Dean room to change his mind and run at this revelation. Dean, not wanting to move his wrists or open his mouth, shows his continued interest the only other way left to him. He bucks his hips up, grinding his naked erection into Cas’s clothed one, causing them both to gasp at the pressure. After a second he does it again, this time more because he can’t stop himself than to prove any kind of point, chasing the sweet pleasure. Castiel growls, clamping one hand onto Dean’s hip and forcing it down, pressing it immobile to the mattress. A few more unsatisfying ruts and his body finally gets the message that it’s not getting anywhere, allowing Dean to settle down despite his heavy breathing. His eyes search out Castiel’s, his cock twitching hard at the predatory gleam it finds there.

     “So desperate already...so hot Dean, you have no idea.” This had started as a firm drawl, but trailed slightly into breathiness on the last few words. Dean gave his own wicked grin as he realized that Cas was getting just as worked up as he was. He licked his lips slowly, staring straight into the angel’s eyes, and writhed a little under Cas to show just how turned on he was. Cas’ breathing increased and his fingers drew up to trace the line of Dean’s lips distractedly. He let two of his fingers slip into Dean’s mouth, probing gently until Dean sucks hard, licking all around them. Cas groaned, rested his head on Dean’s chest, and laughed shakily. “Dean Winchester, you are a siren.” He removed his fingers carefully, leaving Dean to make a small dissapointed noise and said sternly: “No. The point is for me to take care of you. We can...experiment...later.” Dean pouted a little, but forced himself to relax once more at Cas’ look.

     Satisfied, Castiel surveyed the prone form under him. He ran his hands across Dean’s broad chest and down, watching muscles flutter under skin as he moves over the sensitive stomach and sides. He slid them back up, kneading slightly here and there. When his fingers brushed Dean’s nipples, he gave them a soft pinch. Dean rolled his eyes and smirked, expression clearly stating ‘Come on, dude, I’m not a girl!’ Castiel lifted one eyebrow at the challenge. He pinched again, hard. The smirk is wiped from Dean’s face as Holy hell, where have THOSE been my whole life? He’d slept with girls before that had briefly licked or even sucked at his nipples before, but he hurried them along when he found it underwhelming. But this, this was definitely more interesting. Castiel grinned in triumph, leaning down to lick a circle around one nipple before biting down on it just to this side of painful, and Dean is gasping and writhing for real this time. He gave the other the same treatment before letting his mouth drift all over Dean’s torso and neck. His hands never left the human’s nipples though, pinching and kneading and scraping his nails over the now over-sensitives nubs without mercy. Meanwhile he kissed, bit, tasted Dean’s skin and turned the man under him into a writhing mess.

     Dean lost himself in it. He couldn’t think, couldn’t have spoken even if he had wanted to. It’s so good, but Cas completely ignored his cock. The longer the sweet torture went on the more the pleasure mixed with an almost-pain from his desperate need to come. If Cas would just touch him there, but he can’t ask; he can’t process enough to even understand what to ask for. As it increases, pleasure and pain burn away into a deep intensity, filling him up and making him break position to grasp at Castiel’s hair sharply.

     Castiel stops his worship and looks up at Dean, letting the human breath before before speaking. “Dean? What do you want?”

     “Please!” Dean whispers, too far gone to care that he’s pleading and gripping tighter at Castiel’s hair. “Please, I need--” But Cas knows. He resumes his pressure at Dean’s nipples and sinks his teeth into Dean’s neck just short of drawing blood and Dean nearly weeps with frustration, but then Cas is pressing his naked erection against Dean and oh, YES! It hits him like a freight train and he yells, arcing up with his whole body before collapsing back down in a heap. He hears Cas give a deep grunt and more hot liquid lands along his own, and it makes him smile weakly. He smiles a little more as he watches Cas’ naked ass as it goes to the bathroom to get something to clean them up with. Wait...

     “Dude” he says as soon as Cas re-enters the room. “Did you use your angel mojo to take your clothes off?” Castiel has the decency to look a little sheepish at that, wiping Dean off first and then himself.

     “You were very insistent. I did not want to take the time.” Dean stares at him for a second, then a laugh is bubbling out of him, and another, and he can’t make them stop. He chuckles until he just can’t anymore and Cas has slid into bed with him, and he feels giddy and exhausted.

     “I need to sleep.” He mumbles into Cas’s shoulder. Castiel’s hand comes up to softly brush the skin of his cheek.

     “I’ll watch over you.”


End file.
